Chapter 1 #2
My gaze went to the village, where some of my warriors were herding the humans into the square while others hefted barrels and bins over their shoulders to return to the ship. The ore from the smelting house was our target, but we couldn’t pass up an opportunity for mead or Issa’s favorite cheese.
What was my wee wildcat thinking now as she watched my men—beasts, she likely considered them—heading for the smelter?
Deep in my chest, my Kteer rumbled, and as Maardok prodded at my wound, my brows raised in speculation.
My Kteer, that primitive side of me which kept me alive, had been strangely quiet since my wildcat had attacked.
Was it because I’d been in no real danger?
That wasn’t true—she knew how to wield a sword as well as some of my warriors.
“There.”
My brother tied off a bandage, too tightly. “Ye’ll no’ bleed to death on my watch, D’malk. Issa would never forgive me.”
Our sister was a force to be reckoned with, and since she’d been breeding, her temper was even shorter. I pushed Maardok away with a shake of my head.
“I’m fine. I barely felt it.”
Even now, my shoulder merely ached as I pressed my elbow against my side and hefted my ax.
“Take my weapons back to the birlinn, then meet me in the village square.”
Maardok looked at me skeptically.
“Ye’re going to talk to them?”
I wondered if my wee warrior would be among those gathered, and how she would respond to me. I bent to scoop up her dagger—still bloody—which I slid into my boot, and her sword. I jammed her larger blade into my belt and sent my brother a grin.
His worry slowly turned to chuckles, and he shook his head as he hefted my shield.
“Talking? Nay, ye’re going after that wildcat.”
“Ye ken me well.”
Still chuckling, Maardok turned toward the shore.
“Dinnae misjudge her, brother. She is dangerous.”
Aye. My lips twitched.
But what was life without a little danger?
Rowena
My heart thudded in my chest as I backed away from the scowls—and swords—of the fierce sea raiders. After our defeat, they’d gathered us here in the village center, a loose clump of wounded and terrified humans, as the rest of the orcs tore through our stores and supplies.
Everyone knew what these beasts did to settlements they raided, and for the first time, I wished I’d chosen a village nearer to a defensible castle.
Nay, you wanted to prove your worth.
And I had. Or at least, I would have, had that monster I’d chosen to do battle with not been twice my size and lacked the courtesy to fall back when I’d cut him.
Reminded of that meager victory, I tightened the muscles of my jaw and wrapped my fingers around the leather of my belt, wishing I still had my blade. ‘Twould make me feel better to hold it, but that beast had ripped it from my hands when I’d plunged it into his flesh.
Would he remember ‘twas me who had wounded him? Would he or his brethren break me for that? Well, I could take pain.
Could I not?
Scowling, I faced our enemy once more.
Aye. Aye, I could.
They would not find me such an easy defeat.
Whispering started, though I didn’t understand it. Not until two of the monsters stepped aside to allow a third to step into the firelight.
‘Twas him.
The one with the golden rings stacked in a line up his pointed ears, the one with the cloak as dark as night and a soul to match. The one who had so easily disarmed me and stolen that kiss from me.
My hair still ached from where he’d fisted it to hold me in place as he accomplished that disgusting feat, and I glowered in rage, remembering the feel of those large lips—those terrifying tusks—pressed against me.
His shoulder seeped blood and that sight made me feel a little better. Not safer, not at all, but mayhap prouder. I would die here today, for what I’d done…but I’d bloodied their chief, avenged myself for that kiss, and that would be enough.
I’ll never know how I caught his attention. Did I step forward to confront him? Or did the rest of the village, unwilling to be caught by his frown, step back? All I knew was I suddenly found myself standing alone, my fingers aching for my blade as the beast stalked closer.
He watched me.
“I am Vrogul Stormseeker.”
His words were pitched for the village, but his gaze never left mine.
“Chief of the Battleborn sea raiders of Islay. I have defeated ye.”
There were murmurings and tearful pleas behind me, but my frown grew as I stubbornly lifted my chin. He had not defeated me just because he’d knocked my blade to the ground. Let these villagers cower in fear. I would meet my death the way my father had always taught. Head on, eyes open.
The air between us crackled, and I knew even if my blade wasn’t now hanging from his belt, I’d never be able to defend myself.
I’d seen how fast these sea raiders could move.
Or would he use his fists on me instead of a weapon?
I didn’t allow my gaze to drop to his hands, but how well I remembered the horrible claws at the end of each of his fingers.
His right arm was tucked against his body, likely because of the wound I’d given him. But he could crush me with one hand. Was it any wonder my heart thudded, helpless, against my ribcage?
Nay, not helpless.
Just…not as strong as my enemy, damn me.
“Please, milord,” a woman wailed behind me. “Have pity on us!”
Finally, the huge beast dragged his gaze over my shoulder and I allowed myself to exhale in relief. His eyes were as dark as his cloak, dark as the kilt he wore.
I shivered.
Another of the weak villagers called out, “Leave us our stores, milord, to get us through the winter!”
And yet another: “Leave my daughters! They are too young for your lecherous uses!”
I saw the beast’s brow rise, and one side of those cruel lips twisted mockingly.
“What uses would my men have for yer daughters?”
His low voice was deceptively mild.
“Ye think we would pin them down on the beach and fook them? Each of us slaking our needs in their unwilling cunnies?”
More than one voice rose in a wail of denial and fear. Was I the only one to see the way some of our attackers’ lips wrinkled in disgust?
“Please, milord! I am newly married!” came one tearful plea, while a male called out, “You’ll have to kill me first!”
“Or mayhap…”
The monster—Stormseeker—tipped his head in what I thought was supposed to be consideration, although it appeared almost mocking, as his dark gaze skipped across the crowd.
“Mayhap we can make do with only one tribute.”
On that word—that hateful, gut-wrenching word—his gaze landed on me.
I swallowed, seeing the truth of my fate in his eyes.
Behind me, the villagers whimpered. They were not my family, but they had become my friends in the time that I’d lived among them.
I knew them, and I knew many of them were weak.
I thought of Betta, the smith’s young wife, and Merena and her sister, who had been kind to me whenever I traded with their father.
I didn’t want any of them to suffer. Not when I was stronger.
Not when I could allow my rage to overcome my fear.
“I will do it.”
I lifted my chin and my glare to meet the sea raider’s eyes.
“Leave these people alone.”
The Stormseeker hummed as he stepped closer, seeming to study me.
“Ye, little warrior?”
Before I could blink, he’d reached out to grab my chin. Nay, ‘twas too kind of a word to describe his cruelty; his hand closed around my jaw, his thumb holding me captive. One slip, and his fingers would be around my throat, crushing the life from me.
If he and his men wanted to plow my belly, he would keep me alive that long, at least.
The thought made my heart skip a beat, made my knees weak.
You are strong. You have survived afore, and you will survive again.
And so I masked my terror with bravado, glowering up at the beast who held me pinned with more than just the grip of his hand.
“Ye would sacrifice yerself, pretty little human?” he murmured, low enough that I doubted any others heard him. “To save these sheep?”
Although his fingers held my lips nearly immobile, I did my best to spit at him.
“They are mine!”
I would protect them.
Was it my imagination, or did the sea-raider’s gaze soften speculatively? ‘Twas not my imagination the way his thumb brushed against my cheek.
Softly.
Gently.
Reverently.
I shuddered as my body swayed toward his, beyond alarmed by this response.
By my response.
Suddenly, Vrogul Stormseeker, chief of the sea-faring Battleborn, stepped back, his hand dropping to my arm. Before I could draw breath to gasp, he yanked me against him. I hit his chest with an undignified oof, my knees shaking in fear and confusion.
“This one,” he growled, then raised his voice and his gaze to sweep over the villagers.
“I will take this one. Her sacrifice will save the rest of ye.”
As the villagers’ grateful voices raised in prayer, I closed my eyes and tried to keep from shaking.
Sacrifice.
I swallowed, my stomach ready to release my last meal.
Father, help me to meet my death as you did: with courage and honor.
But I knew, somehow, that I would break before then. Already tears prickled at my lids as I accepted the inevitable.
I belonged to my enemy.